Not You
by rampage tonberry
Summary: Sometimes, when someone says something, they mean something different from what you think. yaoi, sei/z...


Not You  
  
Sometimes when someone says something, they mean something different from what you think.  
  
A scrap of faded newspaper blew down the soggy streets of Deling City. Every building looked the same dark gray to Zell's Balamb-trained eye. A fine drizzle rained misted down , truly from the clouds but seemingly from the buildings themselves. Cars rushed by but they too looked gray and broken-down, not the usual bright colors that only the cars carry in Deling.   
  
Zell passionatley hated rain and felt akward in the dark trenchcoat that he'd bought. His walk was unnaturally slow for him, and unsure, as he walked out of G. Caraway's mansion. He had just finished making a report to the General on some espionage work that he had done (Squall had said that Garden needed the money to repay FH for the repairs done to G Garden to get it in service again) in Timber. Zell had felt particularly bad about it all, because he'd been with Squall when they stayed at the houses of some of the people he had been spying on.   
  
He walked out onto the sidewalk, wondering if he should go for a stiff drink in a nearby bar. Seemed like a day for getting wasted. But then his attention was caught and held by something to his left. Gunfire. A motorcycle, and a car. The motorcycle was speeding, and heading out of town by the most direct route. The car, a black limousine, was in rapid pursuit. A man had his arm and head out the back window of the limousine and was shooting at the man on the motorcycle.   
  
Reacting quickly, Zell broke into pursuit of the limousine. The streets were crowded but Zell was fast, and he was able to overtake it several blocks before the end of the city limits. He ran up and jumped on top of the sleek black car, to get a better view of the man on the motorcycle. Zell told himself that plenty of guys wore trenchcoats, now including himself, but the tattered red crosses on the sleeves of the man on the red motorcycle could only belong to one.  
  
Zell's first impulse was to call out his name, but what if he didn't want the men knowing who he was? Zell searched his memory for something to call him, something that both would understand. There wasn't anything, that worked only in the other direction, so Zell decided to take action that would help more than getting the motorcyclist's attention. He pulled a dagger out of his boot, and timing himself, leaned towards the side of the limousine that the man with the pistol was not leaning out of, and plunged the dagger into the tire. He flipped off that side as the car took a sudden dive to the lower-right side, and sprinted after the motorcycle.  
  
The motorcycle sped northward until it hit a beach. Instead of turning east and entering the Tomb of the Unknown King, which he could have done, he stopped. Flipping his left leg over the side of the purring veicle, the tall man in the grey trenchcoat stood to regard his former plaything the way a cat regards a mouse that opposes it. He flicked the helmet visor up so Zell could clearly see the satisfied, superior expression on his face.  
  
"Chickenwuss! Fancy seeing you here." Seifer smiled the dangerous, cocky grin that had made him many enemies in the Galbaldian military.  
  
"After all these years, you're still the same Seifer Almasy." Zell was amazed. He'd have thought that Seifer would seem defeated, worn by time and hatred. But he seemed to be the same arrogant boy he'd been as a SeeD cadet.  
  
"Should I have? Changed, I mean. I still piss people off enough that they try to kill me." Seifer looked at the motorcycle, then back to Deling. Then he took off the helmet. Zell could see his whole face now. It wasn't true, what he'd just decided. Seifer had changed, he just hid it better than Zell knew he himself did. Seifer looked worn, weathered, and older.  
  
"Explains those people back there?"   
  
"More or less. Its a long story. I think that the generally unpleasant weather is going to take a turn for the worse, and if you want to hear it I suggest we find a place to talk. Looks like there's a building up that way." Seifer pointed to the east, up by the Tomb, as his trench coat was whipped around by the swirling winds, which were starting to pick up.  
  
"Its an old abandoned tomb. Squall, Quistis, and I cleared it out a couple of years back. There's still some monsters around, but I have Enc-None. Its actually quite nice, when you get used to it." Zell shrugged. Seifer was in control here. Like he always was.  
  
Seifer rummaged in a seat compartment of the motorcycle and produced another helmet. After throwing it to Zell and donning his own, he boarded the 'cycle and motioned for the other man to sit down behind him. Zell pulled on the helmet, unsure why Seifer wanted to tell him anything, not quite ready to question why he wanted to know, and jumped onto the motorcycle. Seifer put his foot down on the gas and they sped off. Zell had to put an arm around Seifer to keep his balance, though that was mostly psychological and not physical. He was now closer to Seifer than he'd ever been. He'd never thought that he'd enjoy it this much.   
  
To Zell's suprise, Seifer reached an arm back and put Zell's free arm around to Seifer's front. Zell assumed that Seifer was glad for a famillar face, and physical human contact. It wasn't about him, he thought, so it was easy for him to embrace Seifer as if it was the most natural thing ever. But something in him was reluctant to let go of Seifer once they arrived at the Tomb. The winds had picked up and Seifer yelled out to Zell that he would park in the building, but Zell barley heard.   
  
Once inside the initial structures, Seifer steered the now-empty motorcycle to park next to the Protect draw point. Zell led him into the heart of the Tomb- the eerie building even stranger in the storm. The rope bridge to the center had been stripped of its boards and they had to cross by walking on the ropes, using the handrails as guides. Zell went first, and when he almost fell into the swirling pool beneath, Seifer caught him, helping him back to having both hands on ropes.  
  
The boys finally made it into the innermost chamber, soggy and cold. It occured to them to make a fire, and Seifer managed to scrape quite a bit of moss off of the wall. Zell cast Fire on it, illuminating the room with a flickering glow. He sighed with relief, and went to sit against the wall, behind the coffin. Seifer came to sit next to him, putting an arm around the smaller boy.  
  
"Want to know a secret, Zell?"  
After looking at Seifer for a second to see if he was serious or what, Zell nodded.  
"Sure."  
"All those times I said Chickenwuss?"  
"Yeah?"  
"It wasn't about you."  
"What?"  
"I wasn't calling you a chicken, or a wuss. I was... calling myself that. It was easier for me to blame it on you, but..."  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
"When I'm around you... So much I want to say but I never could. I always chickened out."  
"Like what?"  
"Like that I love you..." 


End file.
